


Sing Us to Peace

by CaptainSchmoe



Series: Stuff Inspired by Stuff from This Little Septiplier Community That I’m In [2]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Anaesthesia - Freeform, Angst, Blind!Mark, Fluff, Hospitals, ICU, M/M, Teddy Bears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-07-27 08:41:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16215485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainSchmoe/pseuds/CaptainSchmoe
Summary: Mark is in the ICU, fully unconscious with a breathing tube in. Jack stops by with the teddy bear and hopes for the best.





	Sing Us to Peace

**Author's Note:**

> Another fic with the teddy bear and the blind!Mark thing. If you’ve read _You Deserve a PMA Bear, At Least_ , you know what I’m talking about.

_Ding_ … _Ding_ … _Ding_ …

 _Boop_. _Boop_.

With no conversation to distract him, Jack once again became fully aware of all the little _dings_  and _boops_  and _beeps_  and _bing-bongs_  filling the air. He didn’t understand what any of them meant. But he assumed that they must have been good, or at least not bad, given how calm and chatty nursing staff were behind the desks.

Here in his room, though, Jack heard little more than the occasional _boop_  of Mark’s monitor overhead, sporting numbers whose meanings he wrote down due to having trouble remembering. Currently, his numbers were 129/73 for his blood pressure, 69 _(heh)_  for his heart rate, 99 for his oxygen, and 0 for his breathing - the last of which was thanks to the tube in his throat.

Today, Jack brought the teddy bear. The one he’d gotten for Mark earlier this year. The one with the PMA sweater. Positive mental attitude. That… That was what Jack needed right now. It was hard, seeing the normally-giggly Mark in this bad of shape, unconscious, unresponsive, bruises and lacerations marring his skin, tubes and wires hanging every which way out of him. But he was told it was going to be okay, that Mark wouldn’t need the breathing tube for much longer. Assuming all continued to go well, they could even take it out tomorrow. And even if it didn’t go well… Well, the staff here were so nice to him, and their equipment seemed top-notch, and they did their absolute best.

Positive mental attitude.

It was Mark’s bear, but Jack had a hard time letting it go, wanting to have something to clutch against his body, something to hug. Someone to hug. But that was selfish. It was Mark’s bear.

He carefully lifted Mark’s IV-attached arm and wedged the bear between it and his side. Now it looked like Mark was cradling it in his sleep. A stray lock of hair was dangling down over his eye, and Jack brushed it back, half-expecting it to wake him up despite knowing how heavily drugged he was.

Was it true that unconscious people could tell if someone was there with them, touching and talking to them?

Jack pulled up a folding chair to the other side of the bed - no IV poles in the way - and rested his hand across the side of Mark’s face, fingers splayed out, the way Mark did to him to “see” and study his features. _Soft._ Soft skin, soft floof, soft sleep. Jack ran his fingers through his hair, and Mark gave no response. There was only the rise and fall of his artificially-breathing chest.

God, he felt like like a mother.

Would his baby boy be in pain when he woke up? Would he be scared? Would he forget anything?

From this side of the bed, Jack could see the whiteboard, scanning it and absorbing all the info he already knew.

_My name is Mark. One thing you should know about me: I love playing guitar! The most important thing to me during my stay is: Being comfortable. Diet: tube feeding. Safety alerts/Special needs: blind. Activity: bed rest. Pain level: N/A. Primary contact person: Sean (DP)._

He checked out the door to see if anyone was watching, and deeming the coast clear, he pressed a kiss to Mark’s forehead, ruffling his hair a bit. That shouldn’t have been embarrassing. It was an ICU, for fuck’s sake. But… Agh, why did he have to feel judged? He could have closed the curtain. He’d do that.

He took one last glance around the ICU as he did so. All was calm and quiet, with only the ambient _dings_  and _boops_  and _beeps_  and _bing-bongs_  of peace and normalcy.

Jack felt… good. Mark was going to be okay.

Positive mental attitude.

He found his way back to his chair, pulling out the call light and using it to turn on the TV. There was an easy listening channel he figured Mark would like.

…Found it. Paired with the lush green and angelic white image of a mother and daughter picking flowers in a garden was a soothing piano and strings lullaby. Heck, it would probably make Jack tired if he stuck around too long.

“You like the music, babe?” he asked, fingers kneading into his scalp.

He imagined Mark saying yes. He figured he would.

Mark’s other arm was losing its hold on the teddy bear, leading Jack to get up, lift up the siderail, and prop the bear up against it instead, still ensuring the fur was in contact with Mark’s skin.

“It’s okay, I’m going back to my spot.” Jack ran back to his chair, quickly sitting down and wrapping his fingers between Mark’s. “See? I’m still here. I didn’t leave. You just almost lost your bear.” He kissed the back of his hand, and lightly drew his fingers across his forearm. “You’re all right. The doctor says you’re gonna be all right.” He uncurled Mark’s fingers and kissed the tips. “I love you, babe.”

Nothing.

His heart ached, desperate for some kind of sign. Some kind of indication that Jack wasn’t just being stupid and talking to himself here.

…Mark needed rest. There. Jack could make himself stop talking by reminding himself that Mark needed rest to heal.

Keeping his hand intertwined with Mark’s, Jack let the piano melodies from the TV take over, to sing them both to peaceful rest, to carry them over to a better tomorrow.


End file.
